Valentine's Day Reality and Romance
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: 18 months after their wedding, Sherlock and Molly (from my Journey story) know each other's shortcomings all too well. But life isn't a fairytale and they are as committed as ever. Molly can't wait to see what's in store for the evening. What is Sherlock planning and why is their bedroom off-limits? (Written to support Molly Hooper Appreciation Week on Tumblr.)
1. Prelude to a Special Evening

**Author's note:** I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to write a Valentine story this year, after seeing that it is Molly Hooper Appreciation Week on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy the result!

**Update** 3/9/19 Thank you to the talented **Elizabeth** **Robello** for my new cover photo which shows Molly in the dress Sherlock bought for her. She is also wearing the necklace Sherlock bought her last year.

* * *

It was Thursday, February 14th, Valentine's Day, and Molly was just finishing a very busy day at the hospital.

Her breasts were feeling unpleasantly full and starting to leak, because it was one of those days where she had been too busy to use her breast pump to express some milk. Technically, she could have done so, but that would have meant inconveniencing others while she headed off to the loo, and she didn't like to do that.

Most days when Molly was busy and couldn't pump, it wasn't this bad, but this morning, Victoria had still been soundly sleeping when she got up for work, and she had not wanted to disturb her. So actually she had not fed the baby since putting her down for the night at around ten o'clock the night before. Victoria hadn't even woken in the middle of the night as she often did. It was a small miracle, which Molly was now regretting.

She sent a quick text to Sherlock, who was home with their daughter. He had just finished a case the day before and had said he was not going to start anything new until after Valentine's Day, because he wanted to do something special with his wife. "Sherlock, make sure Victoria is hungry when I get home. My breasts are killing me."

His answering text came back and made her smile. "Ah, you require milking. I shall make sure Victoria consumes nothing else until you come home."

Her smile widened further when he added cheekily, "However, if she refuses to ease your discomfort, I offer my services to manually milk you myself. My suction is much gentler than that of your breast pump."

Oh yes, Sherlock knew the many trials and tribulations of said breast pump. Using it was almost worse than having breasts that were uncomfortably full of milk.

"Duly noted," she texted back, before doing a few last things in the lab to make sure it was left spotless as usual. If there was one thing she really disliked, it was coming to work and finding dirty pieces of lab equipment in the sink or microscopes out of place. As much as Molly loved her husband, he did have a tendency to forget to clean up after himself. Sometimes when he was looking after Victoria, he would leave a wet or, heaven forbid, dirty nappy in a bag and forget to put it into the rubbish bin.

They had been married now for eighteen months, and there were definitely little things about Sherlock she found a bit annoying. They weren't on their 'best behaviour" anymore, as they had been when first engaged and married. This wasn't a fairytale, after all.

Yes, Sherlock sometimes left the toilet seat up, after all, he hadn't lived with a woman before who needed to sit on the toilet anytime she used the loo, and more than once, Molly had accidentally sat on the cold porcelain, which was not pleasant, especially when it occurred in the middle of the night in the dead of winter. He also had a tendency to use up the toilet paper and not replace the roll, and she would unknowingly sit on the toilet, have her wee (or other), notice the absence of paper and have to call out to Sherlock to grab a new roll, that is, unless she was home alone or had done a number two, in which case she would be left to be creative with the toilet bowl cleaner brush to give her enough length to reach for a new roll in the cabinet beneath the handbasin. Sherlock had been the recipient of her wrath on several occasions when it came to his poor bathroom etiquette.

After eighteen months, she was okay with him being in the bathroom if she was sitting on the toilet after a wee, but definitely not, as yet, after a poo. Now, _that_ was still too embarrassing, even with the faithful use of poo-pourri to mask unpleasant odours. That stuff was actually a Godsend, even if Sherlock tended to forget and just had to use the regular air freshener instead after the fact. What was it about men anyway and their ability to spend more than a half hour in the toilet doing their business? Molly knew Sherlock took his phone in with him to check emails or play games while he sat on the toilet. She herself was in and out as fast as possible.

And then there were Sherlock's socks. No matter how many times Molly politely asked him to make sure he unrolled them properly after taking them off, he persisted in tossing them into the washing basket as is, and she would have to unroll them herself before putting them into the washing machine.

Of course, she herself was not perfect, and Sherlock had called her out on her own little idiosyncrasies he found annoying if she confronted him on something that irked her. Yes, the bathtub drain had been clogged on more than one occasion due to her hair getting caught in it, but really, it was easiest to brush her hair out immediately after washing it, before stepping out of the shower. Then there were the times she had to do her usual shaving routine in the shower, which meant she was in there longer than usual and used up all the hot water (according to Sherlock). Of course, that was not exactly true. The water was never actually cold, just lukewarm. However, Sherlock said it reminded him too much of the cold showers he had endured during their engagement when he had been trying to calm his libido down after a particularly heated session of kissing and sometimes a bit more, and he was struggling to keep himself from giving into temptation and consummating their relationship before the wedding night. This minor issue was not really an issue anymore though - well neither the cold showers, nor the lukewarm ones. Molly simply informed Sherlock if she would be taking a longer than usual shower, and he took his first. She didn't mind it if the water was only tepid by the time she was just shaving her legs.

Molly's other main fault was the way she tended to leave leftovers in the fridge way too long. She hated to just waste food and would always be convinced that they would eat them later. Unfortunately, Molly enjoyed cooking so much, they hardly ever ate said leftovers. Sherlock never remembered them either and would usually buy takeaway if he was home alone, completely forgetting that lovely leftover pasta or other such uneaten portions in the fridge. So, that wasn't entirely her fault, her intentions were good. Rather amusingly, Sherlock had threatened to do experiments on some of the containers of unidentified mouldy food that were occasionally found at the back of the fridge. Usually it was the putrid smell that alerted one of them to the presence of inedible leftovers. It was almost as bad as the smell of rotting flesh, Sherlock had declared on more than one occasion. Oops.

But today was Valentine's Day, and when Molly arrived home, she was not going to think of those trivial domestic issues that occasionally cropped up. She was going to enjoy their second Valentine's Day together.

As Molly took the Tube home, she wondered what Sherlock had in store for this year. He had made their last Valentine's Day incredibly special. They had eaten dinner at the Ritz with Mycroft and Elizabeth Smallwood (now Holmes). Mycroft had asked Sherlock to come along with Molly as he was a little nervous about proposing to Elizabeth.

After dinner (and a successful proposal by Mycroft), Molly had expected to just go home, but Sherlock had other plans. He had booked the same room they had used on their wedding night, had in fact booked both the wedding night and Valentine's Day at the same time.

They had spent a wonderful Valentine's night re-creating their wedding night, including the bubble bath that had preceded their making love for the third time. Molly smiled at the memory and received a few curious looks from other people on the Tube. She couldn't wait to see what Sherlock had in mind for this Valentine's Day, although she was curious to see whether it would involve their daughter or not.

As soon as she arrived home, Molly dashed up the stairs to the flat. She certainly hoped Sherlock was ready with the baby. She could feel the breast pads were no longer containing the leakage and she had forgotten to bring extras to work. In fact, she could hear Victoria grizzling quite loudly and it was causing even more leakage.

Thankfully, Sherlock opened the door in his maroon coloured dressing gown, bouncing the fussy baby on his hip and Molly entered, pulling up her jumper and working to unclasp the front fastening of her maternity bra as she walked to the sofa. Getting herself situated on it, she held out her arms. "Baby, _now_!" she demanded of her husband who had followed right behind.

Dutifully he complied, with a mild, "Not even a kiss hello for Valentine's Day?"

Molly didn't respond until Victoria had eagerly latched on and began suckling greedily, even as Molly gave a sigh of relief. She watched the baby for a moment as a tiny hand flexed across the top of her breast almost as if it could promote the increased production of milk flow. It was a common sight Molly never tired of seeing. _Our little miracle,_ she thought fondly.

Then she looked up at Sherlock, whose lips were formed into a slight pout as he still stood in front of her, now baby-less. "I'm sorry, honey," she apologised. "You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to have a full milk supply, and I was leaking through the breast pads." Then her lips curved upwards. "Feel free to kiss me now, if you like."

Sherlock smiled and bent down to brush his lips against hers tenderly. Then he gave her one of those heart stopping seductive smiles and said, "Would you like me to relieve some of the ache in your other breast?"

Molly giggled. "You are so silly. I think Victoria will take care of it."

"You should thank me, Molly," he told her gravely. "When you texted me, I was just about to get her a bottle because she was already grizzling, but I held off and tried to distract her until you got home."

She grinned at him. "Much appreciated. So," she asked casually, "any plans for this evening?"

Sherlock sat beside her and put a hand on her knee. "As a matter of fact, yes. Once you've finished feeding Victoria, you can take a shower and get ready. I have everything ready for you in the bathroom, and the bedroom is currently off-limits, just so you know."

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. "Off-limits? What on earth for?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously it's off-limits for a reason, so I'd hardly tell you why now, would I?" He squeezed her knee. "You'll find out soon enough."

Molly felt a sense of anticipation run through her. She remembered one of their re-creations a year earlier where Sherlock had ordered her to stay away from the bedroom, and she had later discovered rose petals strewn all over the bed, petals that had been manually plucked by Sherlock and had resulted in several little jabs on his right hand by sharp thorns. There had also been candles placed around the room for romantic ambience. That had been an unforgettable night, but just one of many unforgettable nights they had shared together.

Twenty minutes later, Molly was feeling more like her usual self, milk supply depleted, holding a well-fed, contented baby. Sherlock had been puttering about, still in his dressing gown, doing various things, and he came over to take Victoria from her. "Go and have your shower now, sweetheart. We have reservations for seven and we need to drop Victoria off at your mum's first."

_So he is planning on spending the evening alone with me, _thought Molly. Out loud she asked, "Will we be picking her up afterwards?"

Sherlock shook his head as he held Victoria up to his shoulder and patted her back expertly to burp her. "No, everything's all arranged. I'll be picking her up tomorrow, once you've left for work." She was about to ask if he had everything ready in the changing bag, but he anticipated the question. "I have extra nappies, jars of baby food, and all I need to do is grab the extra bottles of breast milk from the fridge before we leave."

_So_, Molly reflected, _this will be only our second night alone since Victoria was born._ The last time had been New Year's Eve, yet another memorable night. She would miss Victoria of course, but it was rather exciting to know that she and Sherlock would have another uninterrupted night together.

Molly stood and reached up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then departed for the bathroom. The first thing she noticed when she closed the door was the deep purple dress on a coat hanger dangling from the hook behind the door. This was a dress she had not seen before. It was a full length, deep purple evening gown with spaghetti straps that ended in a sweetheart style crossover bodice. A long, slim skirt fell from the natural waist of the dress, and there was a thigh-high split on the left side. The material itself also glittered. It was a gorgeous gown and Molly hoped she could do it justice. Sherlock had bought her clothes several times and surprisingly, showed an excellent taste, probably because of his discerning eye and attention to what would flatter a certain body type.

Once she had looked thoroughly at the exquisite dress, Molly noticed clean knickers on the washing basket. Sherlock had even thoughtfully added fresh breast pads for her to place inside the dress, which had built-in cups and was intended to be worn without a bra. He had obviously taken note of her comment about the saturated state of the pads she had pulled out from her maternity bra. There was a pair of high-heeled strappy black sandals in front of the basket. Sherlock thought of everything.

She had to smile when she noticed a full toilet roll in the holder, with an almost empty one balancing on top of it. No need to ask for help with the new toilet roll today, apparently. So far, this was turning out to be a very nice prelude to the evening.

Molly turned on the water and stepped gratefully into the shower stream cleansing herself thoroughly with her jasmine vanilla body wash, then washing her hair with her usual strawberry scented shampoo she favoured from The Body Shop. She knew Sherlock always loved those scents on her hair and skin, even if they didn't really go together.

When she stepped out of the shower, after brushing her hair out and remembering to check the drain for strands that had got caught in it, (if Sherlock could be thoughtful about the toilet roll, she could also do her part), Molly dried herself off and put a towel around her body and another around her hair, wondering how she was going to dry it. She usually allowed her hair to dry naturally, but that was not something she could do if they were heading out in the cold air. Her hairdryer was in her bedroom.

She exited the bathroom and was about to ask Sherlock about her hairdryer when he came up to her, even now still in his dressing gown. Victoria was sitting in her playpen, happily chewing on one of her soft toys. "I've put your hairdryer in the sitting room, and you can use the mirror above the mantelpiece." Molly was about to point out that the mirror, perfectly positioned for him to see into it clearly, was a little high for her, when he added, "I've put a step-stool in front as well."

She smiled. "You think of everything, don't you?"

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, almost displacing her towel. "I try," he murmured, giving her a longer, more satisfying kiss than the one they had shared earlier when she had been feeding Victoria. "Now hurry up, or we'll be late." He swatted her on the backside.

She dimpled at him. "I'm not the one who decided to spend valuable time in kissing rather than getting ready."

He merely rolled his eyes at her and headed off for the bedroom, presumably to get dressed himself.

Fifteen minutes later, Molly was ready, dressed in her lovely gown, with hair in loose waves around her shoulders, but something was missing.

When Sherlock came out of the bedroom, he was wearing a suit and, for once, a tie. He was also holding something in his hand. He held it out to her and she saw it was the necklace with the hearts descending from it in different sizes and shades of pink that he had given her last Valentine's Day. "Thought you might want this," he said.

She smiled at him and lifted her hair so he could place the necklace around her neck. "What about earrings, though?" she questioned.

Sherlock shrugged. "You can't see your ears anyway, so what's the point in even wearing them?"

She had to concede he was right about that.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Molly were in a taxi, with Victoria between them, on their way to Ruth Hooper's flat to drop off the baby before their special night together. Molly was looking forward to it.

* * *

**Author's note 2: **This was going to be a one-shot, but as usual, I found myself writing more than I expected, so there are two chapters to follow.

So, what do you think so far? I hope you are enjoying seeing a glimpse at what a real marriage is like. My usual married stories for Sherlock and Molly are a bit more fluffy, but, as this takes place in the "now" timeline of my version of them, which is 18 months after marriage, I figured it would be nice to hit readers with a dose of reality, and humour as well - did you like the toilet humour? Have you ever read a story that talks about poo-pourri and bathroom habits before? Life isn't a fairytale and no couple has a perfect relationship. Can you relate to any of these little things Molly is reflecting upon? If you're a mother, can you relate to her issues with sore breasts? I used my own experiences to describe her discomfort.

There's a reference in this chapter to some of my previous stories - _First Valentine's Day and Night Together_, and _Throwing the Boutonnière, a_s well as the more recent _A New Year's Eve Party for Two._

Does anyone care to make a deduction about Sherlock's plans for Molly and why he won't let her into their bedroom?

By clicking on the follow/favourite button and reviewing, you are making a visible effort to show your support of my work. Thanks to those of you who do so. I really appreciate it!


	2. An Unexpected Change of Plans

"Goodbye, sweetheart. Be good for Nanny," Molly instructed her daughter, giving her several kisses goodbye.

Sherlock, for his part, gave his daughter one kiss on the forehead and said, "I'll see you tomorrow morning, sweet pea. Daddy loves you."

Sherlock usually still maintained a reserved demeanour when it came to showing affection for his daughter in public, but at home he was just as affectionate with her as Molly was, sometimes even more so. He loved playing games with her like peekaboo and tickling her to make her squirm with delight. He would blow raspberries on her tummy to make her laugh as well. Victoria was definitely the apple of her father's eye.

Baby drop-off completed, the couple headed back to the waiting taxi, upon which Sherlock gave directions to take them to the Ritz.

Molly took his hand in her excitement. "We're going back to the Ritz restaurant? That was such a lovely evening last year. Thank you for thinking of it." She wondered if he had made a reservation for them to stay overnight again, and then dismissed it. First of all, she had work the next day, and secondly, Sherlock had told her their bedroom was off-limits, so he obviously had plans for them to return home after dinner. _Hmm, I think Sherlock's deductive reasoning on things is rubbing off on me_, she thought in silent amusement.

"You're welcome, love." He turned his head and sniffed her neck appreciatively. "You always smell so good." He nuzzled her neck, then kissed it, and she giggled. Then he murmured in her ear, "You also look ravishing in that dress, sweetheart, and if you weren't wearing a coat right now I'd be trailing my hand up your thigh through the slit in your dress."

Molly blushed. "You and your innuendo, Sherlock," she returned softly, turning her head to whisper into his ear.

His eyes danced as he responded. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart. I'd simply like to place my hand on your bare leg, nothing more, nothing less." Then he smirked and she knew very well that he was definitely thinking impure thoughts.

He captured her lips with his own, taking her breath away and leaving her in no doubt of the promise of delightful things to come later that night.

When they arrived in front of the Ritz hotel, Sherlock helped Molly to alight and they walked into the luxurious establishment they had frequented on two other occasions.

Sherlock took her immediately to the lift and they were soon on the way to the top floor and the revolving restaurant.

Once they had exited the lift and walked to the restaurant, Sherlock spoke to the man standing at the entrance. "Good evening," he said politely. "I have a reservation for two at seven o'clock for my wife and myself, under the name Sherlock Holmes."

The man beamed at him. "I recognise you, Mr. Holmes. It's an honour to meet you." Sherlock inclined his head in acknowledgment, and the man tapped a few keys on his computer, then frowned. He looked at Sherlock and said, "Seven o'clock, you say? I don't seem to have your reservation here."

Now it was Sherlock's turn to frown. "What do you mean, you don't have my reservation? I made it the day after New Year's."

The man gave him a look of concern, then tapped a few more keys. "I'm very sorry, sir, I've checked every reservation for this evening and your name is not among them."

Sherlock's lips tightened. "This is ridiculous," he expostulated. Molly laid a placating hand on his arm and spoke.

"Could we perhaps be seated at another time then?" she asked, hoping to defuse the situation, as Sherlock's colour was heightening and he was beginning to flex his fingers in agitation.

The man, whose name tag read Robert, gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Madam, the restaurant has been booked completely for the last month for this evening. I'm sure you understand that Valentine's Day is a special occasion."

Sherlock shook Molly's hand off and folded his arms. "Here's the problem, _Robert_," he said, stressing the name Robert rather unpleasantly. "As you said yourself, it is Valentine's Day, and whether my reservation is showing or not, it was made. Why else would I be here?" he pointed out logically. "It is not as if I can find another place at short notice in which to take my wife for a lovely dinner. So I _suggest_ you find a way to accommodate us." His tone was haughty, icy.

Molly gave Sherlock a warning look. Right now, he was acting more like the Sherlock of old, acting superior and high-handed, and she didn't like it at all. "Sherlock," she pleaded, "let's just leave. It's not his fault."

Sherlock didn't seem to be listening. "I demand to see a manager."

"Yes of course, sir. One moment, please." Robert placed a call and then said, "Mr. Knightley will be right with you." Then he added nervously, "Now, if you don't mind, there's another couple behind you?"

Sherlock huffed but stepped aside and the other couple gave their names and reservation time, which was confirmed. They were ushered into the restaurant even as Sherlock glared at their retreating backs.

"Sherlock," Molly hissed. "Let's not spoil this night. I don't care where we eat, as long as I'm with you."

His expression softened somewhat as he turned to look at her. "But I wanted to give you a wonderful night, Molly, to show my appreciation for you."

"You show your appreciation for me every day, honey," Molly said sincerely, even as she noticed a man approaching them.

"Good evening - Mr. Holmes, I take it? And your lovely wife? My name is George Knightley. What seems to be the problem here?" asked the newcomer.

Sherlock's expression darkened again. "The problem is that I made a reservation for this evening and now Robert here," he gestured at the man still standing at the entrance to the restaurant, "can't seem to find it."

"I see," said Mr. Knightley thoughtfully. "Do you by chance know when you placed your reservation?"

Sherlock seemed somewhat mollified at the man's attention. "As a matter of fact, I do," he said in a more pleasant tone of voice. "It was the day after New Year's."

Mr. Knightley nodded. "I thought that might be the case. We had an issue with our online server on that day, and I know for a fact that several reservations were lost, because we received a number of phone calls from people asking why they had not received an email confirmation about their reservation." He stroked his beard. "I don't suppose you recall receiving a confirmation email yourself?"

Sherlock furrowed his brow, thinking. "As it happens, I didn't even think to check. I had no issue on the first occasion I made a reservation, so I just assumed it had gone through."

The manager looked sympathetic. "I really am truly sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Holmes. Unfortunately, I cannot create extra chairs and tables in the restaurant at a moment's notice. However, to compensate you for your obvious inconvenience in coming here this evening for no reason, may I offer you and your wife a free lunch here on Easter Sunday instead?"

Molly reached for Sherlock's arm again and gave it a squeeze, then gave him a pleading look, which finally, he understood.

"Very well then," he said grudgingly. "I suppose there's nothing else that can be done."

Mr. Knightley beamed. "Very good. If you'd like to come over to the computer, I will make the reservation for you myself and show that there will be no charge for your meal or any drinks you might choose to consume with the meal."

"Thank you, Mr. Knightley," responded Molly, before her husband could make any more snarky comments about the inconvenience of taking a taxi for no reason.

With the reservation made, and even a confirmation number given to Sherlock to prove it was indeed so, Molly ventured a question.

"Our daughter will be eleven months old by then, can she be accommodated as well?"

"Of course, Mrs. Holmes. When you arrive, just tell a staff member you will be needing a high chair for her," Mr. Knightley responded, and Molly gave a sigh of relief. She was glad they would not have to make alternative arrangements for Victoria after attending church on Easter Sunday.

When Sherlock and Molly headed back towards the lift, he still didn't look happy. "Now what are we going to do?" he complained. "It's not as if we can go to some other restaurant at this point, I'm sure they are all booked for the evening." He pushed the button for the lift with more force than was necessary and it immediately opened as several people alighted.

Once the lift was empty, Sherlock and Molly stepped into it. "Sherlock, as I said before, I don't care where we eat. We'll just get some take-away. Isn't Joe's Fish Shop open until nine?"

He groaned in despair. "Fish and chips on Valentine's Day, how romantic," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Molly laughed and tapped his arm playfully. "I haven't had a good piece of codfish in awhile, so don't knock it."

Sherlock sighed. "Fish and chips it is, I guess," he said in a resigned tone and Molly laughed again.

She was rather glad when they stepped back outside the hotel, because it had been getting uncomfortably warm in there with her coat still on, and no doubt, Sherlock was feeling the same.

As soon as they had entered a taxi and he had given directions to take them to Joe's Fish Shop, Sherlock impatiently loosened his tie. "Hate wearing these things," he grumbled. "Unfortunately, it's the dress code for the Ritz restaurant, so I guess at least now I don't have to wear it."

Molly reached over and pulled the tie off completely, then unbuttoned the first button of her husband's shirt. "There you go. Every cloud has a silver lining, doesn't it?"

Sherlock pouted at her. "But now, nobody is going to see how beautiful you look in your new dress and envy me."

Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. "The only person I care about thinking of me as beautiful, is you. We'll find another occasion when I can wear it, okay?"

He took her hand and kissed it. "OKay."

When they arrived at Joe's Fish Shop, Sherlock asked the driver to wait while he went in, stating that he did not want Molly to have to walk home in her high heels and the cold, which she very much appreciated.

Fish and chips duly bought, the taxi driver drove them several blocks further and halted in front of their home.

Once they were back in the flat, with outerwear and footwear removed, Molly grabbed plates from the cupboard and they both took a piece of fish as well as some chips, then sat at the kitchen table. It was close to eight by this time and she was really hungry, so enjoyed the meal just as much as she would have at a restaurant. In celebration they also opened a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice and toasted one another, acting like idiots and pretending they were getting drunk. Molly loved it, letting her hair down and just enjoying time with Sherlock.

"A toast to my beautiful wife," said Sherlock, clinking his glass with Molly's, and they drank.

Then it was Molly's turn. "A toast to the only consulting detective in the world," she declared, and they clinked glasses again.

It was silly and immature and tremendous fun.

Eventually tiring of their game though, Sherlock and Molly headed into the sitting room, whereupon Sherlock announced, "Alexa, play _Shape of You_," then held out his arms for Molly to step into them as the female voice responded and the song started.

Molly loved this song, and Sherlock knew it. It had been used on several occasions to heighten their romantic expectations of an evening - rather successfully too.

Molly twined her arms around Sherlock's neck and teased his curls in the way she always enjoyed doing, while he held her close with one hand stroking the bare skin of her back just above the line of her dress, and his other hand at her waist. She closed her eyes, letting the romantic music swirl around them as they moved slowly, sensuously together.

Taking advantage of the thigh-high split in her dress, Molly rubbed the leg of Sherlock's trousers with her bare foot and Sherlock responded to the sultry gesture by moving his one hand to cup her bottom and squeeze it gently. Then she felt his lips on hers, warm and every bit as sensual as the movements they were making to entice one another. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as they kissed. Kissing was definitely something they indulged in frequently.

Usually, Sherlock removed his mouth from hers first to kiss her on other parts of her face, but this time Molly decided she would take the lead and she moved her own lips to kiss those wonderfully high cheekbones, the corners of his lips, the place where his dimples appeared when he was grinning at her.

She moved her mouth down to kiss that mole on his neck, a few centimetres lower and larger than the one she had on the opposite side of her own neck, and she felt his response, both in his body and in the way his hand caressed her bottom again as his chest began to rise and fall a little quicker. Knowing that she excited him as much as he excited her was always a thrilling sensation.

He groaned a little as her lips moved upwards again to suck lightly on his earlobe, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, he pulled away from her slightly, disappointing her.

Things had just been going well. The song had finished playing already, so perhaps Sherlock was going to request another one? Molly certainly didn't need another one to get in the mood and apparently neither did he as she had already discovered with their bodies pressed so closely together. "What's wrong, Sherlock?" she questioned him, frowning a little.

Sherlock was fumbling in his pocket. "Nothing's wrong, sweetheart. I just forgot something, and when you were kissing me, it reminded me."

Molly was confused. Was his mind wandering while they were kissing? She was always totally focussed on him and nothing else. What could have distracted him?"

He pulled a small jewellery box out of his pocket. "Open it and you'll understand what made me remember this," he instructed her.

Molly gasped when she opened the hinged lid. Inside the jewellery box was a pair of earrings, a pair that perfectly matched the necklace she was wearing, with hearts in four identical different shapes and colours that descended from the gold posts that would go into her ears. Even as she gazed at them in wonder, Sherlock spoke.

When you were touching that lovely tongue of yours to my earlobe just now, it reminded me I hadn't given you your present yet. I had intended to give it to you while we were at the restaurant this evening."

Molly smiled at her husband. "So that's why you told me not to wear earrings, it wasn't just that my hair covered my ears."

Sherlock's dimple appeared in his cheek as he smiled back at her. "Excellent deduction, my love. I had actually planned to give you those earrings as soon as we sat down at our table, so you would be able to wear them for the evening."

"They're beautiful, Sherlock. Thank you."

"Would you like me to hold the box so you can put them on now?" Sherlock offered.

"Of course," Molly responded, and he took the box from her while she pushed back her hair and put in the earrings, then announced, "Now I need to take a look in the mirror."

She walked to the mirror over the mantelpiece and stood on tiptoes, admiring the way they looked in her ears. "They are so beautiful," she breathed again.

Sherlock came up behind Molly and slid his arms around her waist, then pushed her hair further aside with his nose so he could press a kiss against her neck. "Not as beautiful as you, my love, but I'm glad you like them." His hands drifted upwards to give her breasts a gentle squeeze, before dropping them down again to her waist.

She turned in his embrace and pulled his head down to hers so she could press her own kiss to his lips, before saying, "I love them. I love everything you give me, material or otherwise." She continued, "Actually, I have a gift for you as well, although it's not nearly as expensive, but it's in the bedroom so I can't get it for you."

"Is it wrapped?" Sherlock asked.

Molly smiled slightly. "Of course it is. It's in the bottom drawer of my nightstand."

Well then, I'll go and get it for you, and you can hand it back to me as if you've had it all along," Sherlock told her. "I'd like the gift exchange to be completed before we move on to the next phase of this evening," he added mysteriously.

"Alright," Molly agreed. She knew that whatever Sherlock had in store would undoubtedly be special and she hoped her gift for him, small and inexpensive though it was, would also be appreciated.

She watched as Sherlock walked into the kitchen then disappeared along the passage to their bedroom. She heard the toilet flush a minute later, and knew he had made a quick detour. She would probably be needing to do that at some point as well, but for now, she could wait.

* * *

**Author's note: **Well now, what did you think of this chapter? Did you like seeing a little bit of the "old" Sherlock coming through when his plans for the evening were ruined?

Bit of trivia for you - Mr. Knightley is named for the male protagonist in Jane Austen's _Emma_ which I have just finished reading on audio. Have you read it?


	3. A Renewal of Love

**Author's note:** I'm putting an alert here that this chapter is a hard T. I don't think it needs to be rated M, as there is nothing explicit whatsoever, but let me know if you think the rating should be changed, or if you feel the T-rating is still appropriate with the "hard T" label I've described it as. I've seen far more explicit T-rated stories, but I tend to be more conservative with ratings.

* * *

Molly sat on the sofa and waited for Sherlock's return.

He was back within two minutes, holding the present she had wrapped for him. "Feels like a photo frame," he commented, seating himself beside Molly and she glared, snatching the present.

"It's not fun if you make deductions about it, honey," she told him sternly, swatting at his arm. "You had better not try and deduce what might be in the frame, if indeed it is one," she added, realising too late that she had basically confirmed his deduction anyway.

Sherlock grinned. "Wouldn't think of it. I wouldn't particularly like to spend the night on the sofa, at least not unless you joined me." He winked and Molly couldn't help giggling as well.

"Go on then," she said, handing the present back to him.

Sherlock looked at the tag first and smiled. _Dearest Sherlock, love Molly XXX._ "You're always going to use those words aren't you, just to remind me of that awful Christmas?"

Molly tilted her head towards him. "Well, you _are_ my dearest Sherlock, after all. Would you prefer I wrote 'Dear Sherlock' or just 'Sherlock'?"

He snorted. "No, but you could put 'Dearest Husband' or 'Darling Sherlock' or something along those lines."

Molly rolled her eyes. "You're saying that to me, and yet you didn't even wrap your gift for me so I didn't even get a card."

"Fair point," he acknowledged, making a show of unwrapping the gift carefully. His mouth dropped open when he saw what it contained. "Oh, sweetheart, I love this."

It was a photo frame and she knew she had surprised him by the picture inside it. For The past year or so, Sherlock had kept a picture of her from her uni days on his nightstand. He really liked it and had commented once that the only thing missing from the picture was himself. So she had taken it upon herself to make a copy of the picture from the disc her mother had given Sherlock of scanned images from old photos of Molly, and she had put it into Photoshop. Then she had found an appropriate image of Sherlock from his own uni days that his mother had given them in an album of old photos as a Christmas present a few months after they were married. Molly had carefully manipulated the image to make it seem that Sherlock was standing just behind her, and they were together. She was quite proud of the result.

Actually, Sherlock had had a dream a few weeks after their daughter's birth, in which he had met Molly at uni and they had gone into a photo booth at a funfair to have pictures taken of them together. Since Sherlock had related that information to Molly after his dream, it had planted a seed within her to at some point turn the photo from that dream into a reality.

"You really like it?" she asked. "I know it wasn't expensive, but I also would prefer to see a picture of us together on your nightstand, rather than one of me alone, even if it isn't real."

"It's wonderful, Molly," he said sincerely. Then he continued quickly with, "I had your earrings custom-made."

Molly gave him a confused look. "That's perfectly lovely of you, Sherlock, but you know I love them already, so why does it make a difference?"

Sherlock pursed his lips. "I don't want you to think I didn't put any thought into your gift. There were no matching earrings that fitted that necklace, so I had the jeweller look at the necklace and find the right gems in the correct colours and sizes in order to make earrings that matched."

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. "Sherlock, do you think this is some kind of competition?" she queried. "I know that you always put thought behind anything you give me, and it seems like this one even more so. But I would love you if you gave me a pair of socks, because it would be from you."

He gave her a sheepish grin. "You're right. I'm being silly." Then he added with a cheeky grin this time, "So, next time I'll just buy you some socks. Much cheaper that way."

"Sherlock?" she said in the form of a question, putting the frame on the coffee table along with the discarded wrapping paper.

"Yes, love?" he queried in turn.

"Shut up and kiss me." And he did, for some time.

At last he released Molly and said, "I suggest you use the loo before we go to the final Act for the evening."

So, they were heading for the conclusion of their evening. That was fine with her. All that kissing was making her rather anxious to take things further too. "Okay."

While Molly used the toilet, Sherlock went into the bedroom. When she exited the bathroom, she saw the door was open, so knew she had permission to go in.

What she saw left her speechless for a moment. On the bed was her wedding dress, carefully laid out to prevent creases. The large box in which it had been stored after dry cleaning was in the corner of the room. Sherlock's wedding suit was also laid out and he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Molly looked at him questioningly and he explained. "Last year we had a conversation about renewing our vows on the one year anniversary of our wedding day, and dressing in our wedding garments again."

Molly nodded. She remembered the conversation, but with all the activity surrounding Victoria's birth and how busy they had been as parents ever since, their wedding anniversary had come and gone without too much fuss, besides having a quiet dinner together while Mrs. Hudson babysat their daughter.

Sherlock continued. "Anyway, being Valentine's Day, I thought this would be a good opportunity for us to re-commit to one another and to say new vows."

Molly furrowed her brow. "New vows?" She questioned, uncomprehendingly.

Sherlock patted the empty space beside him and she sat. Then he took her hand and looked at her. "I want to tell you how my perception of you has changed in the eighteen months and nine days we have been married." Molly had to smile at that. It was typical of Sherlock to be so literal in his thinking. Any other man would have simply said "eighteen months" and left it at that.

She continued to listen to his explanation with that smile on her face. "Since we have been married, we have been slowly becoming more comfortable with one another. You've seen things about me that I know irritate you, and I have been aggravated by certain things as well. What I wish is for us to talk about our understanding of those things, and how our relationship has changed."

Molly bit her lip. "Are you trying to say that you think these little things are problematical for us?"

Sherlock squeezed her hand. "Of course not, sweetheart. Life is not a fairytale, and acceptance and compromise in relation to our idiosyncrasies can only serve to strengthen our relationship further. I want us to dress in our wedding finery and say new vows that reflect how we have changed and grown as individuals who have become one pair since our wedding day. Does that make sense?"

Molly rested her head briefly against his shoulder. "I like that idea." Then she added, "You'll have to help me into my gown, though."

Sherlock grinned. "Of course." He pointed to something she had not noticed before. "I even remembered to hire a crinoline for the occasion."

Molly looked at the voluminous petticoated material of the crinoline that was on the other side of the bed where she had not seen it before. It looked very similar to the one she had used on their wedding day. "I'm glad you remembered that," she remarked. "Without the crinoline, my dress would be too long and it wouldn't look very good." Then she looked around, wondering if Sherlock had set out her corset as well.

Not surprisingly, he addressed her unspoken question. "I didn't bring out your corset because I don't feel it is necessary. Your breasts have swelled somewhat since we married, and I think your corset would not fit correctly." Then he added, "Of course, in the interest of full disclosure, I must concede that I also do not wish to spend endless amounts of time trying to unhook the damned thing as I had to do on our wedding night."

"Understood," Molly agreed with a smirk. She remembered Sherlock's frustration with that task. "Am I to wear my shoes?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I do not believe that will be necessary. Your gown will be a little longer as a result, but we will be, for the most part, standing in one place, and I don't intend for you to wear your gown for very much longer after we have made our own private vow renewal." He gave her a meaningful look and she coloured slightly.

"I suppose that's why you didn't bother bringing out my veil either?" she ventured.

"Precisely," was his deep voiced reply. Then he stood, pulling her up with him.

They spent several minutes getting into their wedding finery. Molly was able to do most of her dressing herself, although Sherlock had to pull up the zipper of her gown when she had settled it over her body and the crinoline she had put on. She also remembered to switch the breast pads into the wedding dress.

Sherlock noticed that and enquired, "Any leakage?"

"Not yet," Molly responded settling the the pads inside the bodice.

"Too bad." Sherlock smirked, then said with a cheeky grin that made his dimple appear, "Perhaps by the time we make love there will be."

Molly blushed at that. _Cheeky bugger._

At last they were ready and they stood a little awkwardly at the end of the bed in the relatively narrow space between the foot of it and Victoria's cot. Not surprisingly, the skirt of Molly's dress brushed against both the foot of the bed and the cot, it was so voluminous.

Sherlock took both of her hands in his. Molly couldn't help the tremble of anticipation that ran through her. He was such an eloquent speaker and she knew, without a doubt, she would be in tears by the end of it, as she had been during their wedding day when he had said his personal vows to her.

"Molly, my heart, my dearest love. I stand before you now at the opposite end of eighteen months and nine days of marriage with you." Of course, he had to be literal again, she mused, and concentrated on listening to his next words. "Since our wedding day we have continued to grow and learn things about one another, some good, some not so good. I've learned that you can be a poor loser when it comes to playing games." He squeezed her hands and Molly couldn't help smiling a little. He was not wrong, and she had shown evidence of that particular flaw on their honeymoon.

He continued. "In addition, I have learned that your blessedly long hair has a tendency to find its way into the drain of the bath on a consistent basis, and I have felt my showers turning into unintended baths for my feet as a result. Furthermore, you are inherently neat, straightening up papers on my desk and making it difficult for me to find what I need."

Molly bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she apologised, knowing she did have a tendency to be a little meticulous in her neatness and desire for order. She had on more than one occasion, okay, on several occasions, tried to place Sherlock's various papers into some semblance of order to straighten them.

Sherlock frowned at her interruption. "Hush, love. It's my turn to speak." He squeezed her hands and brushed his thumbs along the back of them to mitigate the severity of his words. "Anyway, as I was saying before you interrupted me, there is actually order to my chaos. My papers may not seem orderly, but I know where to find things unless you have moved them." Molly flashed him a penitent smile. She would have to remember that in the future and restrain herself from unnecessary tidying.

He continued. "Unidentified remains at the back of our fridge have been an occasional source of contention. However, that noxious odour of rotting food does help me to understand your own aversion to body parts being in the fridge." He smirked and Molly giggled.

"And then there are my own faults. I am aware that I am not the best house husband. I tend to be sloppy, and I know I forget to switch out the toilet roll at times or leave the toilet seat up. I apologise for that and will endeavour to do better. My only excuse for your unintended encounters with the porcelain rather than the seat is that I never lived with a woman before you. John and I tended to leave the toilet seat up for expediency. One tends to urinate on a more frequent basis than have bowel movements, after all."

Molly snorted with laughter. Of _course_ Sherlock had to justify himself.

He frowned. "I fail to see what you find so amusing about my explanation," he said a little reproachfully.

"I'm sorry," she apologised again. "Please continue."

He pressed his lips together for a moment in an attempt to recall his earlier train of thought. Then he began again. "The crux of the matter is this, my love. It doesn't matter that we have little differences of opinion and things are not perfect. We are not perfect. But we do continue to share one thing that is most important. We share an abiding love and an abiding faith as well. I continue to love you more each day, and I know I will continue to learn more about you. There is nothing that will ever tear me away from you."

As Molly expected, she could feel tears forming in her eyes at his words, and they began to run down her cheeks as he continued. "I will always love you with my whole heart, and I will endeavour also to improve myself as we continue our journey together for what I hope will be many, many years. You are my soulmate and I'll never let go of that or you. This is my vow to you."

He stopped, and Molly knew he was finished. She sniffled. "I don't suppose you have a hanky?" she enquired of her husband. On their wedding day, she had made use of the pockets in her wedding dress to store some tissues and the piece of paper which contained her vows. Those pockets had definitely come in handy.

Sherlock smiled and reached into his trouser pocket, taking out a large square white handkerchief with the initial S - one of many he had received over the years from his mother as practical Christmas presents. Instead of handing it to her, he gently wiped away her tears and pocketed the hanky once again. Molly sniffed again. She could have probably done with blowing her nose, but that would have taken extra time and been rather mood killing.

They held hands once again. Molly took a deep breath and then began to speak from her own heart. "Sherlock, these past eighteen months have been amazing. There have been highs and lows, but so many more highs. I've watched you change and grow so much as we have adjusted to married life and the new journey of parenthood. You are an extraordinarily giving man. Yes, we've seen things about each other that are not perfect. Unsurprisingly, due to our more advanced ages when we married, we can be set in our ways and that can be difficult to change. I know I have a weakness when it comes to being too neat, and I will try to restrain myself in future from imposing too much of that neatness on you. I know and understand my own faults as well as those I see in you. We are human, after all, and try as we might, we will never be perfect. I am content in knowing that these little things will never become big issues with us. Yes, we might have the occasional row over something, but that will never change the way I feel about you. Even as you said to me that your love continues to grow, so does mine. It is unending, Sherlock, constantly flowing from me." She blinked back more tears as she saw the glisten of them mirrored in Sherlock's own eyes.

"Whatever the future holds for us, Sherlock, I am in no doubt that we will face it together, good or bad, because we are bonded in our love and in having God at the centre of our relationship. So finally, as I have said to you before, you are not the perfect man, Sherlock, but you _are_ the perfect man for me."

A single tear slid down Sherlock's face as he removed his hands from hers to trail them lightly along her arms, from wrist to shoulders, leaving her skin tingling. After giving those bared shoulders a little squeeze, his hands travelled up again to rest at either side of her face. "Thank you, my darling," he murmured, bending his head down as she lifted her chin upwards.

Their lips met and fused in a kiss that was both tender and reverent, re-affirming their love for one another. Then the pressure and intensity of it increased, as Molly's arms went around Sherlock's back and she splayed her hands across it, pulling him into herself as best she could, given the rather hampering nature of her dress. Much as she loved wearing her beautiful gown again and recalling their wonderful wedding day, it was not the most practical garment when one wished to indulge in passionate kissing.

Apparently, Sherlock was thinking along the same lines, because he soon moved his hands downwards and reached around to the zipper of her dress, remembering to separate the hook and eye at the top first. It was remarkable how he had mastered the art of kissing her while sliding a zipper down.

Molly's hands too were not idle as she moved them around to blindly tug at Sherlock's tie, loosening it, then removing it. By the time she had progressed from releasing the single button of Sherlock's tailcoat, followed by his waistcoat buttons, her gown was unzipped and only being held in place due to the crinoline beneath.

Sherlock removed his lips from Molly's to murmur, "Why don't you take care of the crinoline and I'll do my shirt."

Molly complied, reaching behind herself to pull at the drawstring for the crinoline and releasing it. Immediately it dropped to her feet as the rest of her gown, no longer being held in place, slithered down also to pool at her feet. The breast pads too fluttered to the floor.

Impatiently, Molly reached to undo the button and zipper of Sherlock's trousers, even as he finished removing his shirt. A few more moments and the rest of their clothing was removed.

Giving Sherlock a seductive glance, Molly sat on the bed and slid backwards towards the centre, then held out her arms. Sherlock climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of her, and their lips met and merged once again. His hands moved to caress her body and then his mouth traced a path downwards to take temporary possession of the usually-claimed-by-Victoria breasts as Molly gasped in pleasure.

His hands and his mouth were everywhere, creating thrilling sensations, as her own hands roamed around his body, touching, caressing the sensitive areas of his own flesh. They knew one another so well and took full advantage of that fact in their teasing and tormenting. And their union, when bodies craved the ultimate fulfillment designed by God, was fiery and passionate. They didn't hold back gasps and sighs of pleasure, exulting in their time alone. Tomorrow they would go back to being Sherlock and Molly Holmes, dedicated and loving parents, but tonight they were just Sherlock and Molly, dedicated lovers, committed to a lifetime of togetherness, and that knowledge was so sweet.

And as Molly closed her eyes in the deep contentment that followed, cocooned in her husband's arms, she reflected on the Valentine's Day she had spent with Sherlock the previous year, how romantic it had been, and yet she could not choose which was better. Sure, the previous occasion had involved re-creating their wedding night and making love three times, but this night had been a recommitment and an affirmation that their love was maturing as they too were, making small adjustments along the way. There had been a subtle change, as they had become more accustomed to being a team and raising a child together as well. Of one thing Molly was confident, their journey would continue together, always.

* * *

**Author's note 2: **I found this story just flowed, written in the space of three days, with the outline almost fully formed in my head.

I'd like to give credit to reader **merygrace** for the "You're not perfect, but you're perfect man for me" line.

A successful marriage takes work folks, but it's worth the effort! I hope you enjoyed the new vows Sherlock and Molly expressed to one another.

Molly's gift to Sherlock reflects something alluded to in _Sherlock's Dream of What Might Have Been._ If you'd like to know more about it, check it out!

Don't hold your opinions to yourself, share them with me and make my day. If you find this story relatable at all, let me know! This is your last chance to say something about the story. Be a giver as well as a receiver. Thanks so much.


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